Simple Attainments
by GODDAMITJIMorSHERLOCK
Summary: Sherlock Holmes was two things: not human and undeniably selfish. John is there and Sherlock just can't let go, cue revivals and a love that are scattered across centuries. Wing!lock. Slow build.


Prologue Part A:

Light, infinite amounts of it, form a glowing plasmatic ball that slowly wrenches itself from the grasp of the churning seas of Imo Pectore from which came All-Life. From the sphere are born creature of the same primordial brightness. They are hewn into shapes that man and other creatures would be molded upon, as tokens to the wars that raged.

Galvanized fires fight for control over the infant universe. Opposites react to form soul-burning explosions, completely obliterating any trace of the combatants. From this madness only a few among billions from the light survive, even fewer among the Opposition. They form Dei Gloriam, and usher in a new age of order and uniformity. But invariably chaos makes itself known in the growing inconsistencies of the mass of soupy hydrogen particles. They areas where they clump together form galaxies and stars. There is no longer only soul fire but true physical ones, whose colors are the sirens of the universe, like their creator.

Their creator, known to men by many names, wanders among the stellar nurseries, igniting more and more of them as he passes. The inherent order of the fabric of space-time distorts itself around his presence. He seeks solitude, and finds it the battle-scarred areas of the cosmos, where not even an atom exists in parsecs of space. He seeks the curiosities that Die Gloriam once held for him.

They have fallen, warped and twisted themselves into a bureaucracy. The blazing newness was gone, fading till eventually it burnt out and stagnated. He was bored; his All-Life would fail in this utter desolate inertia.

But this would not, could not possibly be his fate. His rebelliousness would not be stamped out. Childishly, he cut all of his ties from Imo Pectore. He felt a strange satisfaction that he would never feel his All-life again. He pushed his consciousness further into the cold recesses of space. Stars grew into burnished balls of light, too large to sustain themselves for long amounts of time, not even the force of the particles fighting for space can stop their vast ponderous bodies from collapsing to such a point where there is a whirlpool in space-time. This destruction he is proud of, for the particles must come out somewhere, and where they come out Life is born. He is a true creator for defying Dei Gloriam and that makes him unashamedly delighted.

His consciousness never strays far from his stars; he delights in their warm, fiery passion, so flighty that they remind him of himself. He revels in one last explosion before leaving in search of more. The stars flicker, their father has left them. He has little to worry about; he is but a murky memory now to the Elders. He enjoys this freedom, and wanders among the clouds of interstellar particles.

Something pulls at him, a burst of All-Life that even the most decayed could not ignore. He pushes on letting his senses guide him. Small cycles pass, and he finds himself in a remote and quiet part of the galaxy. Around a small innocuous star he finds a small flock of planets that circle around it. The pull is strongest from a small, sparkling, blue and green one the pull.

There are creatures on this planet have gained sentiency, they work steadfastly, milling about. Each with their own problems, agendas, and motives. Life on this planet is still vital and new. The creatures themselves are shocked by their creations. And he delights in their small, pure wonder. They are not jaded like ancient civilizations and work for the purpose of gaining knowledge that does not come naturally to them.

Studying them, he decides, would be an interesting use of his time. Drifting downwards towards the planet, he takes the form of the dominant species, Homo Sapiens.

Their planet is in upheaval, just as his cursory glances at their lives concluded. The smell of turmoil and change is barely hidden. He notes that the creatures are unknowingly destroying their All-Life. A stab of hatred runs through him, an emotion that he has not felt in such intensity for eons.

This race is odd to make himself react in such a way, but he realizes they are indeed quite odd. They are full of contradictions and paradoxes. He immerses himself in their culture, and studies them earnestly. They begin to bore him, but a select few retain more than a passing interest.

The planet is obviously not as remote as he imagined, the stories of the Wars of Old have trickled down, creating the planets religious scripture. They are bastardised versions of what truly happened but their message of love is poignant, however, they are filled with the inconsistencies that plague this race. Hopefully, humans will ignore the illogically hateful parts of their Holy books. This does show that Dei Gloriam must also have an outpost here, but he does not fear, as he knows he is but a long forgotten memory.

He weaves a tapestry, creating his own history. His brother finds him to his anger, and adjoins their lives here through true brotherhood here. He smiles as their consciousness's clash as his brother tries to make him return. He does not listen thus Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes are born.

**First chapter of my first fic, reviews (preferably concrit) are nice. J**


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